In Captivum Bellator Imperator
by ChaosOrdo-FFL
Summary: AU. In a world where aniquity lasted much, much longer, magic is a common practice; the international slave trade is alive and well and if you aren't careful you could easily become one of the merchandise, an emperor is taken. Tensions rise, rebels grow bolder, there is no heir, the battle for the throne begins, the search for the emperor seems hopeless.
1. Quidam Gloria Matris

Special thanks to my Beta, Belgaris. I'd be lost without her.

Disclaimer: I Do Not Own These Characters. They Belong to J.K. Rowling

and Are Her Intellectual Property. I am Not Receiving Any Profit From

This. I Think. Meh.

This is set in an alternate universe where before the middle ages, the continents moved, sooo... Not our world.

The empire comprises of cultures and religions derived from ancient Egypt, Rome, Sparta, Mesopotamia and the ancient Celts and Germans, as well as a bit of personal elements. I went all out. Ehe.

There is a significant amount of Latin in this fic. You have been warned!

Mea Domina- My Lady

Mi carissi- My dear

Gens- In ancient Rome, a gens, plural gentes, referred to a family, consisting of all those individuals who shared the same nomen and claimed descent from a common ancestor.

Iunior Dominus- Junior Lord

Imperator- Emperor

Nobilissimus Caesar- Most Noble Caesar

Agoge- The agōgē was the rigorous education and training regimen mandated for all male Spartan citizens, except for the firstborn son in the ruling houses, Eurypontid and Agiad. The training involved learning stealth, cultivating loyalty to the Spartan group, military training (e.g. pain tolerance), hunting, dancing, singing and social (communicating) preparation. The word "agoge" meant in ancient Greek, rearing, but in this context generally meant leading, guidance or training. My agoge differs in quite a few ways though.

Materno Avus- Maternal grandfather

Turma- A turma (Latin for "swarm, squadron", plural turmae) was a cavalry squadron in the Roman army of the Republic and Empire.

Proavia- Great-grandmother

Aurigae- Charioteers

Palatium- Palace

Princeps Iuventutis - The first amongst the young

Imperator Destinatus- Destined to be Emperor

Chapter Warning: Rape/Non-con

Angua Venenosa collapsed against the side of her bed in exhaustion, gazing down at her newborn child with pride. Her handmaid wiped the sweat from her brow and gave her a smile full of joy and equal pride.

"My congratulations to mea Domina for giving birth to a healthy son."

Angua paid the maid no mind, focusing only on her son and regaining her lost breath. The birth had gone well, as had the afterbirth. She had survived, there was still strength in her body and the child was seemingly healthy, if a tad quiet. Instead of wailing as most babes do, her son was sniffling and whimpering, clenching and unclenching his tiny fists. He was still covered in the substances of birth, with a shock of black hair on his head. Angua smiled with affection. Her son would survive, that she knew.

After thanking the earth for her gift and apologising for separating her from her newest child, Angua lifted her son to her breast. She finally regarded her handmaid, her face void of the affection she held for her new son.

"Bring the wine; I must see if he is strong."

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"Come to me, mi carissi, my precious Angui."

Angua stretched her arms out towards the toddling child before her. His small face was scrunched up in concentration as he tried to put one foot before the other.

Nitens Nox, her husband's grandmother, exhaled a mouthful of smoke from her position; reclining in a swinging cushioned bench nestled in the room's shadows.

"Walking already. He's growing so fast, even for a child of his gens."

Angua smiled as Anguius teetered for a second before regaining his balance.

"My son will always be two steps ahead of his peers."

"So be it."

Nitens fell silent.

"You've become a seer now? Another one of your many...talents?"

Maria chuckled and popped another grape into her mouth.

Angua ignored the gibe from her husband's mother, not wishing to fight and upset her son.

"Mea Domina."

"What?"

"A slave of Clausius of the gens Nigrus has delivered this."

Angua finally took her eyes off of her son to regard the female slave.

The slave held out an elaborately carved box made of ebony.

Angua took the box, ignoring the slave as she bowed and left the room.

"What is it?"

Maria leaned forward in her seat, trying to get a better look at the box.

Angua opened the box and once she saw its contents, sighed heavily.

"What? What is it?"

"Another torque."

Maria leaned back, most of her interest gone.

"Oh, another. Is it bearable?"

Angua lifted the torque from its cushion of silk to examine it. It was made of fine silver, expertly carved, beautifully embossed, elegantly twisted and delicately inlaid with black onyx and black diamond. Its terminals were carved silver dogs. Simple in its design, but grandiose in its execution.

"Quite."

Angua took out a piece of paper.

"There is also a note."

"Read it."

Angua obeyed.

"Greetings, mea Domina,

I give this in honour of the birth of the Iunior Dominus. My sincerest apologies for not giving it to you sooner, I wished that it be the embodiment of perfection. I hope it is to mea Domina's liking. Long live the Imperator and the Nobilissimus Caesar.

Sincerely,

Sirius Nigrus Clausius."

"Give it here. Let us see if it was worth the wait."

Maria held out her hand for the torque.

Angua let loose a low sigh of exasperation, called a slave to her, handed her the torque, then went back to watching her son. The slave gave the torque to Maria.

Maria brought the torque closer to her face so she could inspect it better.

"Ooh. Why, it *is* lovely. Venenosa, you simply *must* put this on Tuscus. Besides, it would be an insult to Clausius if Tuscus is seen not wearing it. It would not be wise for Tuscus to alienate such a powerful man, at such a young age."

"Then many people shall be insulted, for my son cannot wear so many torques around his neck!" Angua gestured to the ouroboros torque Anguius was already wearing. The one her father had gifted to him before his death.

"Nonsense."

Silence fell over the room as the Nitens spoke once more.

"When I was a child, wearing many necklaces was the fashion. For both males and females. In fact, I wore more necklaces than Anguius has received. Up until I was wed."

"Well, that may be so, mother-in-law, but we cannot have the Nobilissimus Caesar walking around looking like a giraffe with so many adornments!"

Maria bit her cheek as she tried to keep her tone respectful. Her husband's mother had always disliked her. Over time the feeling became mutual.

The room became slightly cold, which was odd for there was only one window and it was closed. Nitens sat up properly and leaned forward into the light. Eyes blacker than the night sky stared coolly at Maria.

"Do not be foolish, daughter-in-law."

She moved her considerably warmer gaze to Angua.

"It is a simple matter. Choose the best of the torques and put them on Anguius' neck. Not all at once, mind you. Gradually, so that he may grow into them. The rest, turn them into accessories. Bracelets, armlets and the like. Make it happen, you *are* a sorceress,-"

Nitens leaned back into the bench.

"- are you not?"

She blew out a mouthful of smoke.

Nothing more was said on the matter.

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"Angui."

From his seated position on the papyrus mat, said child looked over at his mother where she was preparing the tools needed for the ritual.

"Yes, mother?"

Angua gave her son a smile, the one that was for him only. Her prediction was correct. Not only did her child survive, he thrived. He was sharp, smart, fierce and strong. She couldn't have been more proud.

"You remember why we are doing this?"

The boy nodded.

"So one can harm me."

"Correct!"

Angua gave the contents in the pestle a particularly harsh grind with the mortar.

"Not just for your protection, but also to preserve your heritage. You come from a long line of powerful people, my son, you must show it! But."

Angua looked him dead in the eye, seriousness radiating from her whole being. He met her gaze unflinchingly. She nodded in approval.

"You shall not depend on them. For even the best protections aren't impenetrable. You will become strong on your own, through hard work and dedication. Understood?"

"Yes, mother."

"Good. Also, make sure you tell no one of how much protection you have. This is important, Angui. Never reveal your weaknesses. Tell no one. Understood?"

He nodded.

"Excellent. Now, let us begin. Lie down."

She picked up an instrument greatly resembling a needle, but oh so very small and delicate. She leaned forward and looked him in the eye once more.

"This will be immensely painful, it is acceptable if you wish to scream."

Anguius raised his chin in defiance.

"I will not."

Angua smiled indulgently then began the long process of carving spells into Anguius' mind, body and soul.

Eventually Anguius did begin to scream. When Angua began to carve and file his teeth. To his credit, he didn't flail about.

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Angua slowed the yoked horses into a trot, tying the reins around her waist to give her hands a rest. She put her hands on the warm leather edge of the chariot basket and looked out to the plains of the Seth desert. All of this would belong to her son in the future. She will make sure of that.

She looked down to her left at her young son of just six and a half years. He was eying the horses, studying their movements, clutching the whip she had given him to hold. His pale skin was glistening from the ointments applied to protect it from the harsh sun, the colour permanently marking him making a sharp contrast. Sidelock blowing in the wind, causing the beads and amulets to make a light tinkling sound. She smiled as pride filled her. She had birthed such a beautiful child.

Angua wrapped her hand around the boy's sidelock and tugged, gently to make sure she didn't dislodge the eagle feathers and other ornaments.

"Marce."

Eyes lined with black and green met hers.

"You shall soon be seven years of age. You know what that means, don't you?"

He nodded.

"Yes. I will be sent to the agoge, so that I may train to become even more powerful than materno avus."

Anguius raised his chin with obvious pride at the thought.

Angua smiled at his enthusiasm, moving her hand from his hair to his neck, which was nearly completely covered by torques of different materials and styles. She idly fingered the one in the shape of an ouroboros.

"That's right. You come from a long line of powerful sorcerers and warriors, make sure you honour them."

She laid her left hand on his shoulder and with her right, pointed to the north.

"Over there, in the north, that is where your materno avus comes from. A harsh place covered in ice and snow, filled with fearsome beasts. My father descends from a long line of barbarian warriors, nearly as savage and deadly as the beasts with which they share their land, just as cold and harsh as the lands they inhabit."

She pointed towards the south.

"My mother comes from the south, near the coast. She descends from a people once called the Lacedaemonians. A fierce people who were renowned for their military prowess."

Angua pointed west, all pride gone from her face.

"Your father and his father come from the west. Filled with fertile grasslands and dense forests. They come from a family full of dictators. Tyrants! Raised in the lap of luxury! A domineering people who sneer at the poor yet do Nothing to help them! Proud gluttons who care for no one but themselves!"

She bared teeth and her clenched her fist as the rage her father had driven into her surfaced. But- Angua looked at her son. He was gazing up at her with his brows furrowed in concern. -She couldn't lose herself. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at the Turma guarding them. They were good soldiers, undoubtedly they'd heard her. And undoubtedly they would inform her husband.

"But, they are a mighty people. Their pride is well placed. They did found an empire after all."

Angua gave her son a tentative smile. She moved her hand from his shoulder to the crown of his head. She ran her fingers between the rows of braids tight against his scalp, tickling it and causing him to hiss at the sensation, making her laugh.

"Besides, there are some good people who are a part of your father's family. Such as your proavia!"

A smile bloomed on Anguius' face at those words.

Angua pointed toward the east.

"She is from the east. Descended from a proud people as well. Proud and grandiose in their ways. But, a kind people nonetheless, who make efforts to help their poor."

Angua ran her fingers over the shaved left side of her son's head, feeling through the enchantments there the spells she herself had carved into his flesh. She smiled as pride filled her once more. Her son had screamed very little during the process.

"You know... I believe that you have her eyes."

Anguius gazed up at her in question.

"The same shape, the same deep, black colour."

She paused and then before he could stop her, lightly pinched his nose.

"The same glint of equally deadly curiosity and sharpness!"

Anguius hissed and swatted her hand away.

She laughed and tugged lightly at the ring in the nose piercing his proavia simply insisted he got.

"So you see, mi carissi, you have quite a name to live up to. I am sure you will make me and your ancestors proud. You are a wonderful child, I'm sure you will grow up to be a glorious man and Imperator."

Angua unwound the reins from around her waist to bend over so that she and her son were on eye level.

"And between you and I, I think you will be a much better Imperator than your father."

She put her right forefinger to her lips to imitate silence.

Anguius gave a bright grin at her antics.

Angua leaned in and gave her son, her precious son, a feather light kiss on the side of his shaven head, then straightened.

"Now, let's if we can outrun our guard."

She held out her hand for the whip.

"Mother...?"

"Hmm?"

She looked down to see him clutching the whip tightly.

"I wish to try, may I?"

Angua blinked at her son in slight surprise, but then thought to herself; 'He had to learn sometime.'

"Alright, if you think you can."

A scowl came over Anguius' face. One so like his father's it sent chills down his mother's spine.

"I know I can."

Then, Anguius swung the whip in a way though lacking much power, certainly had enough speed for a large crack rent the desert air and the horses were off!

Angua stared in shock at the galloping horses, how could he even...? She looked down at her son who was wearing a smug smile, looking mighty pleased with himself.

"Angui, how did you know how to do that?"

"I watch you and the Aurigae and I have practised many times."

"My brilliant son! I will reward you later."

She looked back to see the guards gaining on them so she turned to her son once more.

"Angui, do it again."

Anguius cracked the whip again and the horses ran even faster, making his mother throw her head back in a laugh. The indignant shouts of their guard were lost to the wind.

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It was a quiet and tense affair at dinner. All conversations were stilted and didn't last long. Angua glanced at her husband from the corner of her eyes. He was watching her, downing cup after cup of wine. Subtly of course. It shouldn't get out that the Imperator was a drunkard. That look in his eyes... It never bode well for her. She tried her best to ignore the stare and focused on making sure her son had enough to eat.

After dinner, Inflatus left without a word to anyone. Angua didn't dare hope. She led Anguius to his room, but before she could take him inside, a slave came forward.

"The Imperator has summoned mea Domina to the study."

"I will be there."

As soon as the slave left, Angua sank to her knees and caressed her son's head.

"Go into your room and get into the bed. I will return later to sing to you."

Anguius stared at her dubiously for a moment, but soon nodded and ran into his room, closing the door behind him.

Angua stayed kneeling for a few more minutes before standing. She then turned her attention to the guards on either side of her son's doors.

"Let no one enter. I will return within the hour."

'Hopefully', Angua added to herself.

"Yes, mea Domina.", was the guards' brisk reply.

Unbeknownst to Angua, Anguius was not in fact stripping down to sleep, but was by his door, waiting for his mother to leave. As soon as she did, he sped for his balcony. He opened the heavy hidden trapdoor and climbed down the rope, landing nimbly on the cool grass and then quickly hiding in the shadows before anyone could see him. He crept around the main building trying his best to avoid being seen by guards and slaves alike. He barely managed. He had studied the pattern of the guards in the week he'd been here and knew that currently there was a lull in the patrols as the guards on nightshift took their post and the ones on day shift left theirs. He should be able to- Anguius held his breath as a slave walked right by the spot in the shadows where he was hidden.

The slave passed by unaware. Anguius released the breath he was holding and set his sights once more on the window of his father's study. He had one chance. He waited until the guard had turned the corner and then sped across the courtyard and leaped for the window. He managed to grab onto the ledge and climbed up onto it. He peeked into the room and all he saw was his father drinking a cup of wine while pacing. He then carefully climbed into the room, trying his best to jostle the curtains as little as possible. Once down from the ledge, he hid behind the bust of his great-grandfather. When he heard the door open, he decided to peek from his hiding spot. What he saw made his eyes widen.

As soon as Angua stepped foot in the tablinum, her hair was grabbed and she was dragged over to her husband's work table.

"Dictators, are we?! Tyrants, are we?!"

Angua yelped as her head was slammed unto the table's surface.

"You, *dare*?!"

A loud rip rent the air. Angua started to struggle then. She would *not* allow this man to take her again! Just as she was about to be free, Iner grabbed her head and slammed it on the table once, twice, thrice more.

Angua lay limply on the table as she was thrust into harshly. She gazed dimly before her, trying to form coherent thought. Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. What...?

Iner grabbed her hair once more and pulled her head back, stretching her neck and causing her to feel discomfort bordering on pain.

She began struggling once more, but compared to the fierce struggling she did before, this was on par with a child's.

Iner slapped away her feeble attacks and thrust even harder into his "wife", pushing her face down into the table's surface.

"Know your place, *bitch*! Do not teach my son to hate his noble lineage! That which is much more noble than yours! Barbarian *whore*!"

Angua closed her eyes as shame worse than any she'd ever felt came over her. She turned her face and hid it in the crook of her elbow. It was the most humiliating thing she ever had to endure. When she felt him finish, she shivered in revulsion and tried to move away. He merely pressed her down further.

Iner leaned forward and whispered harshly in her ear;

"Hear me *wife*. Learn your place or it shall be taught to you. Remember, I can easily take away that which brings you most joy."

Angua felt her heart stutter in her chest at his words.

He pulled out of her and righted his clothing then grabbed her hair and threw her onto the floor.

"Cover yourself, then *get out*."

Angua did so, but not before giving a weak glance at the bust of the 14th emperor.

Anguius sat in shock for what seemed like hours. He knew his parents weren't close, but for his father to treat his mother in such a manner...

As soon as he had regained his senses and his father's back was turned, Anguius discreetly left the study and sped across the villa to his room.

When he finally arrived, it was to the sight of his mother lying at his bedside. He rushed over and fell to his knees.

"Mother? Mother are you alright? Answer me!"

She turned her face to him. It was tear streaked and there was a large bump forming on her forehead.

"Angui...?"

"I'm here, mother!"

Anguius moved closer. He watched as she tried to raise her hand and not wanting to cause her any more suffering, he grabbed it and put it against his cheek.

She rubbed her thumb on his right cheekbone and gave him a weak smile.

She whispered softly, "Such lovely cheekbones."

Anguius felt confused, he didn't know what to do. So he did what he always did when he was confused; he asked his mother.

"Mother? What should I do? How can I help?"

All she did was smile at him and mumble about what a good boy he was, and such an amazing son she had, then she went silent and stared at him. Just, stared for many moments. Then as her eyes began to close, she called out to him.

"Angui?"

"Yes, mother?"

"Call for your proavia."

She went limp.

Anguius felt something shift inside him then. Rage and hatred in equal measures fought for dominance. And worse, an overall crippling fear that had him frozen to the spot as he looked at his mother's white face. Suddenly he jerked into action and ran to his great grandmother's quarters, his heart pumping painfully and his throat so constricted it felt as if it was choking him.

That day, Anguius began to truly *HATE* his father.

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Sirius Nigrus raised his drinking horn as silence fell over the greater dining room of the Palatium.

"I bid you all welcome, on this most joyous occasion! Tonight, we celebrate the birthday of the Nobilissimus Caesar! An intelligent and handsome lad who has a bright future ahead of him! May he live longer than ten times his current age! To the Princeps Iuventutis, Imperator Destinatus!"

Similar shouts echoed throughout the hall, for even though both his parents were disliked, Anguius was beloved among the people.

Angua was pleased, in the least. All her years of preparation, of endurance. Anguius would be leaving for the agoge tomorrow, to go through years of pain and hardship, out of her protecting reach.

'But, -' Angua thought as she glanced over at where Anguius was dutifully eating his meat and drinking his milk with ladies of the north cooing over how much he could consume at such a young age, '-he will be just fine.'

The next day, before the dawn, as she prepared Anguius for the day, for the final time, she told herself that, over and over again, to reassure herself. And after sending him off with the elders, crying into the shoulder of her grandmother-in-law, she reassured herself. He would be fine.


	2. Quominu Pusus ut Hominis

I don't feel like giving it a final run through. Any tiny mistakes you see here are all mine. *grumbling* God, I feel horrible. Hope you enjoy. Next chapter is ready. I'll post...when I feel like it. *evil cackling*

Special thanks to my Beta, Belgaris. I'd be lost without her.

Disclaimer: I Do Not Own These Characters. They Belong to J.K. Rowling

and Are Her Intellectual Property. I am Not Receiving Any Profit From

This. I Think. Meh.

Chapter Text

Agélai- In the Agoge, boys lived in groups (agélai, "herds") under an older man.

Juno Lucina- In ancient Roman religion and myth, Lucina was the goddess of childbirth who safeguarded the lives of women in labour. Lucina was also an epithet for Juno. Lucina was chief among a number of deities who influenced or guided every aspect of birth and child development, such as Vagitanus, who opened the newborn's mouth to cry, and Fabulinus, who enabled the child's first articulate speech.

Amphitheatrum Flavianum- The Colosseum

Cubiculum- The elevated Imperial Box, from which the emperor watched the games. A cubiculum usually referred to a bedroom in a Roman house but it was also applied to the Imperial box as the emperors could recline in the cubicula, instead of sitting on a curule chair (sella curulis). The emperor sat or reclined on a bisellium which was a richly ornamented chair or seat of honor at the games. The bisellium was so called because there was room for two people to sit on, although only one person ever sat there - the Emperor.

Paidonómos- "Boy-herder", a magistrate charged with supervising education of the children in the agoge.

Diamastigosis- The cult of Orthia gave rise to διαμαστίγωσις / diamastigosis (from διαμαστιγῶ / diamastigô, "to whip harshly"), where the éphēboi were flogged, as described by Plutarch, Xenophon, Pausanias, and Plato. Cheeses were piled on the altar and guarded by adults with whips. The young men would attempt to get them, braving the whips.

Avia generum- Grandmother-in-law

Rhetor- The rhetor was the final stage in Roman education. Very few boys went on to study rhetoric. Early on in Roman history, it may have been the only way to train as a lawyer or politician. This is where spokesman, the original translation of orator, comes from.

Palla- The Palla is a traditional ancient Roman mantle worn by women, fastened by brooches.

Avia- Grandmother

Vapora- The Latin name I gave to Hookah. I know they didn't exist in antiquity, but I just really wanted it in here.

Adulescens- Young man

Augusta- The feminine form of the Latin adjective augustus. It was a title given to some Roman Empresses.

Chlamys- The chlamys (Ancient Greek: χλαμύς, gen.: χλαμύδος; also known as the ephaptis [ἐφαπτίς])was an ancient Greek piece of clothing, a type of cloak. The chlamys was made from a seamless rectangle of woolen material about the size of a blanket, usually bordered. It was normally pinned with a brooch at the right shoulder.

Chapter 2: Quominu Pusus ut Hominis

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It was hard, but worth it, Angua would remind herself constantly over the years. As she watched from a distance how her son grew from being a tough yet pampered boy, into a hardened man. The days immediately after he left were the worst. She was lost without Anguius there to fill them. But eventually, she found things to occupy her time.

She spent the majority of her days developing her magic, creating new spells and potions and improving others. Whenever she did so, she couldn't help but think of what it will be like after Anguius finished the agoge. He would most definitely enter the army, but as the mother of the Nobilissimus Caesar, she could intervene. She could take him under her wing, teach him all she knew about magic. She remembered how, before he left, he had mastered the few spells she managed to teach him very quickly. He had great potential. She knew that they taught magic in the agoge, but they were just basic spells, nothing as complicated as what she practised daily. And Anguius had always *loved * magic. From the pettiest of curse tablets to the most complex potions meant to control the mind, Anguius gave thanks to the many deities of magic for their sacred gift. He truly was a darling as a child. Angua hoped he had remained that way. She had heard the rumours. That even though he was the best in his agélai, he was also the most vicious, ruthless, bloodthirsty and cruel, supposedly earning him many punishments. The rumours scared her. The thought of her son being so similar to her father frightened her immensely, 'But,-' she would think when the fear came to her, '- it is still much better than him taking after his own father.' She thanked Iset for small mercies. Seeing how much the boy resembled his father early on, Angua feared that he would take after his father's family in personality also, but by the mercies of Iset, he took more after her family and his proavia. Her family wasn't the best of people, but they were loyal. Even though he was cruel and she didn't necessarily like him, her father was her father and he had had a profound influence on her. She respected him and was loyal to him. He was a much better person to take after than her husband. Yes, her son had turned out better than she'd hoped. She will always be grateful to Juno Lucina, for that if nothing else. She couldn't imagine having to willingly lay with her revolting husband once more so that she may have another child.

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Angua sat stiffly in her seat on the podium of the Amphitheatrum Flavianum. Her outward calm disguised her anxiousness. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of her face.

The roaring of the crowd behind her was almost as loud as a dragon's. She paid them no mind.

Her husband sat in the cubiculum, commenting on the activities going on in the arena, managing to sound impartial while also subtly praising his son. She actively sought to ignore him.

All her attention was focused on the arena. On the raised platform where an altar was piled with cheeses. On the adults with whips, who were guarding the cheeses. On her son, who was among the youths who were braving the whips in an attempt to get the cheeses.

The crack of multiple whips was no longer the thunderclap it was in the morning, for now, there were only five youths left. It had been a long day. The shouts of youths and the screaming of the crowd were still ringing in her ears. Not once did she hear her son's voice.

Suddenly, a youth fell, possibly dead, but most likely just unconscious.

Groans of disappointment and anger sounded throughout the Amphitheatrum as he was dragged away. Only four left. Soon.

The whips were quickly changed. They were now metal.

At the first lash, one of the boys went down with a scream of agony. Another soon followed.

Angua's avia generum took her hand in a firm grip of support. Angua took a deep, shaky breath. The other youth was beginning to tremble.

A breeze wafted through the Amphitheatrum, providing those on the Podium a bit of relief. Angua closed her eyes as it blew on her, drying her sweat and cooling her skin.

"Angui,", she whispered to the wind. " my son, stay strong."

When she opened her eyes, it was to the sight of the other youth arching away from every lash of the whip. It was a disgrace. One was not to show pain.

There was silence as the other youth fell, as if the whole Amphitheatrum collectively held its breath.

Angua slowly stood.

Anguius' paidonómos pulled the youth away from his position far away from the whips and raised his arm up high. In his other arm was the cheese he would keep as a reward for his valour.

The paidonómos' shout echoed throughout the amphitheatrum;

"The victor of the Diamastigosis, Anguius, the Nobilissimus Caesar!"

The scream the crowd made then, it was near deafening.

Angua felt a wave of relief wash over her. He'd done it.

And as Anguius was crowned with a laurel wreath, he looked up to meet her gaze. Angua gave a nod of approval.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Angua stood completely rigid as she awaited the return of her son. She had managed to have him graduate early, but they didn't have much time.

Anguius had already begun to study under a rhetor, ordered by his father and chosen by his proavia. He would have to divide his time between them. They had until Anguius was twenty and five to teach him as much as they could. By then, he had an obligation to join the army.

She wrung her hands at the anxiety inducing thought, then remembered where she was and dropped her right hand.

Years it'd been. Years since she'd touched him properly. Caressed his carved skin, kissed his lovely face. Her hand clenched the fabric of her palla. Would he resent her for sending him to the agoge?

"Venenosa, come and sit down, standing in wait for him is not going to make him arrive any sooner."

Angua inhaled shakily and went to the older woman's side.

"Avia..."

A wizened hand took her arm in a firm but gentle grip and pulled her down to sit beside her.

"You must not worry so much, child. You are young yet. Here,-"

Nitens held out the carved mouthpiece of the vapora for her to take.

"-have some. It will do you some good."

Angua looked dubiously at the mouthpiece and then at her avia generum, but eventually took the mouthpiece from her and inhaled a mouthful of cool smoke. Soon, she was reclining and smoking languidly.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A tall figure navigated through the halls of the Palatium as if he hadn't lived away from it for the majority of his life. The figure's bare feet made little sound on the granite floor as he walked in long, powerful strides. Slaves paused in what they were doing to bow as he walked past, easily identifiable by his crimson cloak and the multiple torques around his neck.

Years...

The figure ran his left hand along the marble wall.

Years it'd been.

He caressed the bust of an ancestress of his.

He was no longer a boy. But a man. A citizen of Rome.

He sharply turned a corner. The epitome of efficiency. Not a movement wasted.

He'd gone through the brutal and near ruthless agoge. And excelled.

A slave scuttled out of his way and gave a hasty bow.

"N-Nobilissimus Caesar-"

He didn't even glance at him.

Some died; some were extracted by their families, fearing for the lives of their children; few remained and even fewer thrived. He was none of those.

He skimmed the surface of a garden pond with his fingers as he walked by.

He was *more*. Smarter, sharper, faster, stronger.

He pushed open the doors to his proavia's atrium.

Better.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Angua jolted out of her reclining position when the doors of the atrium slammed open. What...? She looked in the direction of the doors and had to turn away quickly when she saw just who was in the doorway.

She glanced at her avia generum, seeking guidance.

Obsidian eyes gazed at her with indifference.

Angua turned away from her and closed her eyes, praying to Iset for assistance. When she opened her eyes, they immediately went to the servants who were in the darkest corners of the atrium, awaiting orders.

"Leave us." How her voice did not waver, she never knew.

The slaves bowed and left the room in silence, the guards closing the doors from the outside. Silence reigned supreme once more.

Angua took another deep breath, then turned to face her newly returned son. She did not look him in the face just yet. Instead, as she stepped towards him, she examined him from foot to head.

He was barefoot. The many pains those feet must have gone through over the years. She decided there and then that she would be the one to massage the pain away.

Strong calves. Rough knees. Muscled thighs. Large, calloused hands with long, elegant fingers. Thin but worked arms. A strong chest and broad shoulders. A long neck mostly concealed by many torques.

She stopped just before she reached his face. Now with just a few inches between them, Angua reached out and ran her hand down his still pale arm.

Inhaling shakily, Angua asked in a steady voice; "Adulescens, may I inquire as to why you are disturbing the peace of Augusta?"

A deep and dignified voice answered her. "Can a man not pay his respects to those who mean the most to him?"

Angua glanced up. Her husband's face gazed down at her. She released a pent up sob.

He fell to his knees and bowed his head.

She raised a hand and let it rest on his cheek.

He leaned into her touch. Just as he used to.

Angua felt a tear fall down her cheek. She caressed his carved into skin, feeling the many scars. She ran her hand from his face to the top of his head, a frown coming upon her face when she felt only bristles there.

"Did you do as I ordered?"

"Yes, mother." He held out a torn off piece of cloth made into a small bag.

Angua took the bag, feeling for the contents with her fingers and finding teeth, both human and animal. She then hid it in the folds of her palla. She would make the keepsakes into lovely ornaments for her son.

Another shaky breath; "Excellent. Welcome home, my son." She stroked his shaved head with a trembling hand, ran her fingers along the rough cloth of his tattered chlamys. "Mi carissimi fili."

A large hand gripped hers and brought it to thin, chapped lips. "Carissima mater."

Angua gave a smile at his words and tugged him to his feet. "Come, you must greet your proavia. I also have a gift to give you."


	3. Ave, Imperator

Notes:

Longest chapter to date! Things are about to get intense! ...I think. If you have a weak stomach, this chapter is not meant for you. -I can write worse- I swear I wrote the cannibalism long before i joined the Hannibal fandom.

Special thanks to my Beta, Belgaris. I'd be lost without her.

Disclaimer: I Do Not Own These Characters. They Belong to J.K. Rowling

and Are Her Intellectual Property. I am Not Receiving Any Profit From

This. I Think. Meh.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Primus Pilus- The Primus pilus is the senior centurion of a Roman legion.

Medicus- Physician or combat medic. Specialisations included surgery (medicus vulnerarius), ophthalmology (medicus ocularius) and even veterinary (medicus veterinarius). At least some held rank equivalent to a centurion.

Capsarior- A medical orderly.

Cohort- A cohort (from the Latin cohors, plural cohortes) was the basic tactical unit of a Roman legion during the Second Punic War (218–201 BC) or following the reforms of Gaius Marius in 107 BC.

Principes- Principes (Singular: Princeps) were spearmen, and later swordsmen, in the armies of the early Roman Republic. They were men in the prime of their lives who were fairly wealthy, and could afford decent equipment. They were the heavier infantry of the legion who carried large shields and wore good quality armour.

Legatus- A legatus (anglicised as legate) was a general in the Roman army, equivalent to a modern general officer. Being of senatorial rank, his immediate superior was the dux (provincial governor), and he outranked all military tribunes.

Tribunus laticlavius- A military tribune (Latin tribunus militum, "tribune of the soldiers", Greek chiliarchos, χιλίαρχος) was an officer of the Roman army who ranked below the legate and above the centurion. Young men of Equestrian rank often served as military tribune as a stepping stone to the Senate.

Paludamentum- In Republican and Imperial Rome, the paludamentum was a cloak or cape fastened at one shoulder, worn by military commanders (e.g. the legionary Legatus) and rather less often by their troops. As supreme commander of the whole Roman army, Roman emperors were often portrayed wearing it in their statues and on their coinage. The paludamentum was generally crimson, scarlet, or purple in colour, or sometimes white. It was fastened at the shoulder with a clasp, called a fibula, whose form and size varied through time. Putting on the paludamentum was a ceremonial act on setting out for war.

Milites- Milites (singular, miles) were the trained private footsoldiers of Rome. These men were the non-specialist regular soldiers that made up the bulk of a Legion's numbers.

Ave- Hail

Imaginifer- The imaginifer was one of the signiferi in a legion in the times of the Roman Empire, who carried the imago—the image—of the emperor. The imaginifer was added to the ranks of the legions when the Imperial Cult was first established during the reign of Augustus. The imago was a three-dimensional portrait made from beaten metal. It was carried only in the leading cohort.

Palatinae- (singular, palatini) This Palatinae are different from the actual Palatinae; these ones are actual palace guards.

Palatinae Centurio- Palace captain

Carissimus- Dear

Centurio- Captain

Imperium- Imperium is a Latin word which, in a broad sense, translates roughly as 'power to command'. In ancient Rome, different kinds of power or authority were distinguished by different terms. Imperium referred to the sovereignty of the state over the individual.

AUC- Ab urbe condita is a Latin phrase meaning "from the founding of the City (Rome)",[2] traditionally dated to 753 BC.

Chapter Warning: Graphic depictions of violence, Gore, tiny bit of Cannibalism. I swear, I wrote the cannibalism long before I joined the Hannibal fandom.

Chapter 3: Ave, Imperator.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

2736 AUC, XXIX Iner, During Ille Prælio a Facie iaculum (The battle of the dart/javelin)

Anguius is 28:

*Thrust, slash.*

The rush of battle.

*Duck, turn, slam, stab, release.*

His entire being rejoicing at the chaos.

*Shield, throw, slash, stab, grab, bite.*

Sweet, warm blood burst into his mouth. Anguius threw the still warm body away from himself and surveyed the battlefield. The enemy had managed to break their formation early on, but Anguius didn't dare order them to regroup. He was having too much fun. Besides, they still had a major advantage.

He went to retrieve his javelin, slaying another two enemies on his way. Javelin in hand, his eyes scanned the battlefield once more before settling upon a new prey. The soldier started upon seeing his advance but did not run. Instead he took aim and threw his own javelin, which flew through the air at a great speed.

Anguius merely tilted his head to the left to avoid it. A slight miscalculation; the flesh at the space between his neck and shoulder got nicked. He ignored it.

Anguius then took aim and threw his own javelin. It flew true, rising high into the sky before descending as if it were one of Jupiter's lightening bolts. In the end, the soldier had tried to run, but unfortunately for him, Anguius had anticipated that.

Anguius bared his teeth in a parody of a grin as his javelin pierced through the skull of his target and struck the ground, his target still attached. Sensing a presence approaching rapidly behind him, Anguius waited until just the last moment before spinning and hitting his attacker in the head with his shield. When the fool was down, he did it once more for good measure before slashing his throat.

"Primus!"

Anguius turned in time to see Cygnus Nigrus fell another enemy before turning to him.

"Primus Pilus, should we not regroup?!" He shielded himself from a javelin and then beheaded one more foe.

Anguius grinned at him. "Why?!" He turned, grabbed an enemy soldier by the hair and slit his throat. He turned back to his deputy and making sure he could see every movement, brought his sword closer to his face and licked up the sweet, metallic blood along its edge with a broad stripe of his tongue. "This is so much *fun*!"

Cygnus shivered at the mad bloodlust in those reptilian eyes. He tried to reason with his superior.

"Primus, please, the men will soon begin to tire!"

Anguius merely laughed. Then, suddenly his vision blurred. He sobered instantly. 'What?' The battle faded within his mind, lost beneath the sounds of ocean depths. Then, there was a loud ringing in his ear. And Anguius knew no more.

Cygnus felt his heart stutter within his chest when his superior, the Primus Pilus, fell without any apparent cause in the middle of the battlefield. Vulnerable. The direness of the situation slammed into him then.

"Nobilissimus Caesar has fallen! Regroup! Regroup! Regroup now! Protect the Nobilissimus Caesar!"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

When Angua arrived at the tent of the Primus Pilus, it was to the arguing voices of men. As soon as she stepped foot inside, silence reigned. All bowed to her in greeting, but she paid them no mind; her attention was on the lone sleeping mat on the small dais at the rear of the tent and the body lying upon it.

Her son lay there as still as the dead. He looked much paler than usual. In fact, his skin was about grey. Angua could see the blueness of his veins from where she was standing. His cheeks were flushed and on his brow gathered sweat.

Angua turned her attention to who was obviously the chief Medicus. "What is wrong with him?"

"Poison."

Angua let her eyes sweep over the room in a shrewd gaze. "So we have a traitor within our midst."

"No, mea Domina, he was poisoned during battle."

Angua's attention returned to her son.

"He is not responding to any treatment then?"

"Barely. We just managed to keep him alive until your arrival."

Angua frowned. She moved to her son's side, the occupants of the room making way for her. She sat and took his hand within her own. She nearly dropped it for fear of being burned. Her face set into a scowl of resolution.

"But for the capsarior, all of you get out."

"Mea Dom-"

"Now."

The legion's senior officers shuffled out of the tent without further protest.

As soon as the last of them had left, Angua removed her palla and got straight to work.

When Anguius woke it was not to the sounds of battle, but silence. A near ringing silence. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the darkened roof of his tent. The scent of herbs wafted about him. The taste of vomit was strong in his mouth. A flame flickered at the corner of his eye. He felt a familiar presence at his side. He turned head his towards it.

"Mo-" He licked his dry lips. "Mother."

"Poison. You were nicked by something coated with poison. A magical one." Angua poured a cup of water and offered it to him.

With considerable effort, he pushed himself to his elbows and drank the offered liquid. He could not remember a time when he had ever been ill. Even when he had had to sleep outside through every season. The closest he had ever come to feeling such a thing was when he had been made to train in the sun until he collapsed from exhaustion and the dizzying heat. Never had he been more grateful for his mother's presence. Though he may have surpassed her in terms of power and knowledge, she was still superior to him when it came to the healing arts. He had more of an affinity to harm. She was a kind and gentle person when not trying to keep her and her son alive and protect their positions, perfect for the healing arts.

When he finished, she removed it from his lips and set it down. He was about to lie down again when he felt the expectant stare of his mother.

He turned to her once more. "What is it?" His throat felt raw and he could feel his eyelids becoming heavier by the second.

She was not impressed at his attempt at intimidation. "What happened on the battlefield?"

Silence.

"Marce, what took place? You were never this reckless, even during your stint as a gladiator."

Anguius tilted his head back and looked up at the tent roof. He remained silent.

"Marce!"

"Bloodlust!" He snapped at her, baring his teeth like a cornered animal. "I was enjoying myself too much! I endangered the lives of those of the First Cohort."

Silence reigned for a few moments.

Angua, having enough of the tension, pushed Anguius to lie on his back.

He gave little resistance.

"Most of the poison has been expelled from your system. You are no longer in danger, but if you wish to regain your strength, you must rest."

Anguius acquiesced.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

2742 AUC, XXXV Iner, I Anguius,

After Ille Prælio a Facie Colubi (The battle of the snakes)

Anguius is 34:

Anguius lifted the waterskin over his head and squeezed until it was empty, using a hand to scrub away all remaining blood on his face. It had been a long and hard battle. They had had to fall back upon the principes at one point. But now the battle was over. He had defeated his uncle and the war against his mother's people was won.

"Legatus."

Anguius turned to see the tribunus laticlavius trudging through the snow toward him. It was a constant source of amusement for Anguius to see his officers struggle in the harsh environment of the north. While all others had to don breeches, Anguius himself remained in nothing but his tunic, armour and fur lined paludamentum, which was more for ceremony than anything. His training had rendered him essentially immune to most cold.

After reaching him, Abraxas Flavius gave a bow of the head and cut to chase. "The Legion demands your presence."

Anguius nodded and followed him to where the milites were supposed to be collecting the bodies of allies and ending the life of any living enemy. There, the Legion had gathered and when he came into view, all fell to one knee in a show of respect.

Anguius gazed at the gathered troops shrewdly. "What is it you need of me?!"

The Primus Pilus, Cygnus Nigrus, stepped forward. "In the face of your great victory here today and your show of loyalty to Rome and her people over your own blood, we the Legio XII Aquillia Victrix, proclaim you, Nobilissimus Caesar Anguius, Imperator! We pledge our loyalty to you, and only you!" He turned to face the legion and raised a fist into the air. "Ave, Anguius Imperator!"

The response was unanimous; "Ave, Anguius Imperator!"

As if to reinforce the proclamation, the Imaginifer stepped forward and threw down the image of Anguius' father at his feet. Anguius stared at it.

"Do you refuse the title?"

Anguius moved his gaze from the discarded image of his father to his former deputy. He had not planned on ascending the throne so soon, but it seemed like the gods have other plans.

"I accept this honour."

Anguius formed a fist, brought it to his chest and closed his eyes. After a moment he opened his eyes and directed his hand to the discarded image of the current imperator and opened it. A ball of white flame came from his open palm and went to the image, engulfing it.

Anguius returned his attention to his legion. He felt a grin tugging at his lips. He suppressed it.

"With the burning of this image of my father, I declare war against him and his allies!"

The answering cry from the legion brought to mind the crowds of an Amphitheatrum.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Anguius stared down the mounted cavalryman before him.

"Present this to my mother, and only my mother. Travel swiftly."

Anguius handed the spear upon which the head of his maternal uncle, Marcus Anguius Venenosos Pravus, was impaled to the cavalryman, who bowed his head in farewell before riding off in the direction of the Palatium.

Angua stepped closer to the obviously exhausted cavalryman . There upon a spear, was the impaled head of her elder brother.

She turned her attention to the cavalryman .

"My son, he is victorious then?"

The cavalryman nodded.

Angua felt a weight lifted from her shoulders then. The knowledge of her son and brother fighting each other had left her feeling at odds with herself. Though she had no affection for her brother, her father had instilled in her a sense of family loyalty.

She signalled a slave. "Take him and his horse for sustenance. Make sure he is given the highest form of treatment and sent on his way with a proper reward for services rendered."

She gestured at the guard the cavalryman had handed the spear to.

"Bring it closer."

The guard broke the staff of the spear and then brought it forward.

Angua leaned closer to examine the head. Carved into the flesh were spells. Spells to keep the head fresh for the duration of the journey and... a spell her son had created five years prior.

Angua took out a dagger hidden within the folds of her palla, much to the surprise of the slaves and guards around her, and nicked her thumb. Squeezing it to make blood well to the surface, she then rubbed thumb on her brother's now cold lips and then put her ear to them.

Though it was her brother's lips that moved against her ear, it was her son's voice which spoke.

"Mother, the Legion has proclaimed me Imperator. I am now marching to Rome with the intention of ascending the throne. By any means necessary. Prepare yourself."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Inflatus leapt to his feet when an eagle entered the throne room, startling his lover, Caecilia Metella.

He laughed and shook his head at her. "It is nothing my dear, but a messenger. Probably sent to inform me of my son's victory in the north."

He raised his left arm, which was protected by the thick folds of his toga and the eagle flew onto it, claws digging into her new perch.

Inflatus untied the small note strapped to the eagle's leg and unraveled it. As he assumed, it was from a tribunus militum informing him of his son's victory in the north, but it also informed him of his son's new title and the legion currently matching toward him.

Caecilia watched from her seat on the steps leading up to the Imperator's throne as her beloved turned from being flushed slightly with joy to deathly pale with fear and anger. She stood, stepped closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder, making him startle.

He extended his arm and allowed the bird to fly off, then turned to his beloved with a look of urgency upon his face.

"Caecilia, beloved, we must leave immediately! My son has been proclaimed Imperator by his troops and is marching toward this place to kill me!"

Caecilia covered her mouth in shock. Anguius? Coming here? Stories of wild bloodlust and demonic brutality and crimson reptilian eyes went through her mind. Large hands covered her shoulders and shook her out of her thoughts.

"Caecilia! We must leave!"

Just then, a palatini burst through the doors of the throne room.

"Imperator! Nobilissimus Caesar's legion is approaching the city at a rapid pace!"

"Mobilize the entirety of the Palatinae! Defend the Palatium! My son is now an enemy."

The palatini seemed to freeze in place. "The N-Nobilissimus Caesar? An Enemy?"

Inflatus looked at him as if he was an idiot. "Yes! Now go!"

As soon as the palatini left the room, Inflatus shouted at the guards on the outside of the door; "Bolt the doors! Allow access to no one!"

After making sure his order was carried out, Inflatus made sure to secure his side of the door. He then went to his throne and collapsed into it, allowing his head to drop into his palm, his mistress immediately moving to his side to offer comfort and reassurance.

On the other side of the doors, the palatini exchanged nods and significant glances with his comrades before heading off to inform their leader of the situation.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

When Anguius arrived at Palatine Hill, it was to the sight of what must have been the entirety of the Palatinae assembled before it, presumably on the orders of his father.

His suspicions confirmed, Anguius lifted a fist into the air, then opened it, only four of his fingers extended.

Signal given, a lone miles dragged down one of the tribunus militum from his mount on a horse and slit his throat.

The traitor was bleeding out onto the concrete before his shield even hit the ground. No one even blinked at his death.

Anguius' attention returned to the half legion before him.

The Palatinae Centurio stepped forward and fell to one knee, right arm extended.

"Ave, Imperator. We, the Palatinae, support you and your ascension to the throne."

The entire Palatinae copied their captain's gesture.

Anguius' only reaction was to stroke the large snake wrapped around him and tilt his head slightly to the right as he surveyed the kneeling half legion before him. After a few moments, some palatini began to squirm, obviously hoping that they weren't slaughtered by the most vicious legion ever created. Fortunately for them, Anguius had already made a decision.

"You support my ascension?! Then all of you, secure the Palatium!" He turned to his vast legion, his voice amplified by magic; "Two thirds of you, secure the city! Bring any who reject my rule before me for judgement!" He swung his arm in a wide arc. "Let my orders be carried out!"

There was the sound of a multitude of hob-nailed soles stomping the ground once and seven thousand weapons raised up high before a collective, "Ave, Imperator!", was shouted by the legion.

It was too much, he couldn't hold it back any longer.

The grin Anguius made then, it caused the remaining 1/3 of the legion to quiver in their armour. It reminded them of the grin he made while punishing "undisciplined" soldiers.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Inflatus started when the doors of the throne room creaked open despite the locks and his son entered. Behind him, Caecilia screamed. Soldiers marched inside after Anguius and took up strategic positions around the room. He shivered when his son raised his eyes to gaze into his own. The crimson gaze filled him with such fear...

"How?"; Inflatus whispered as his son came to a stop a mere three feet away from him. "The Palatini..."

Anguius gave him a nasty smile.

"You're not as loved as you think you are."

They gazed at each other for a few moments, the throne room silent as no one said a word.

Then, Anguius whispered just loud enough for his father to hear;

"This, is for my mother."

He struck then, faster than an aspis. He merely sunk the blade of his dagger in the underside of his father's chin. Inflatus was never a warrior.

He watched with an emotionless countenance as the light faded from his father's eyes. After, he gave an extra thrust and twist of the knife and felt a certain glee come over him as even more blood flowed from the wound and over his hand before dripping onto the white marble floor.

When Anguius had had enough of playing with the wound, he withdrew his dagger sharply and no longer being supported, the corpse fell to the floor in a rather undignified sprawl. He gave a small smile at the sight.

When crimson eyes were raised once more, several milites flinched at the bloodlust in the eerie gaze.

"Fetch my mother and proavia. Also, send news to the senate; my father is dead and I shall now take his place."

A bow, and a Centurio left the throne room, followed by a few milites.

Anguius turned his attention to his father's mistress who was cowering by the throne, his countenance so gentle and empathetic, it was obviously mocking.

"How are you, Caecilia...Metella?"

Anguius gave her a vicious grin.

Caecilia whimpered and crawled forward a bit on her knees, not wanting to get too close. "Please, Venenosos, mercy! Imperator! Bellator Magnus! Augustus! Nobilissimus Caesar! Dominus Dominantius![1] This patrician woman begs for mercy! Please!"

Anguius gazed at the sobbing woman and waited until she regained her composure. When she did, and was able to look at him properly, he brought his dagger closer his face and with a long tongue, licked along its flat surface. A small piece of flesh was on the dagger's edge so he took it into his mouth and chewed it slowly, watching with amusement as Metella paled at the sight, looking as if she was about to vomit.

"On the grounds of impudicitia, I, Imperator Caesar Marcus Aquillius Tuscus Marcus Anguius Venenosos Anguigus Augustus[2], sentence you to death. Now-" Anguius held the dagger in a reverse grip, eyes cold. "- get away from my throne."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Angua felt as if her heart were about to leap from her chest. She moved swiftly through the Palatium's vast corridors, now swarming with soldiers, her slaves following at a close distance. She had been informed of her son's victory, but she had yet to see it with her own eyes.

When she arrived at the doors to the throne room, soldiers were in the doorway. Though when they noticed her, they immediately made way.

As soon as she entered the room, Anguius strode toward her, dragging by his side a woman by the hair. As soon as he was within reach, before he could say a word, she captured his face with her hands and have him a gentle kiss on his blood stained lips.[3]

"I missed you, meum carissimi fili."

Anguius gave her a small smile. "Carissima mater."

He took a step back and brought the corpse forward, pulling back the head to reveal her face.

Angua gasped when she saw the face of her husband's mistress. The corpse's neck was ravaged, obviously her son's doing. Her gaze returned to Anguius. He looked so very pleased with himself. Like one of her avia generum's cats after it had hunted and laid its catch at its mistress' feet.

"For you, mother. A gift in honour of this day of days."

Angua looked at the corpse's face once more. She felt something in her chest. Something which made her feel giddy and light. She looked into her son's eyes and gave him a wide smile.

"My thanks, carissimus, it is much appreciated."

Anguius grinned back at her and flung the corpse to the side. She gave his face a gentle tug and his attention returned to her.

"Iner...?"

A frown tugged at Anguius lips at seeing the joyousness leave his mother's countenance, but dutifully lead her to the body.

Angua released a shaky breath as she stared down at her husband's corpse. The look of shock frozen on his face. How the sun shined down upon his golden oak wreath. Angua felt something in her snap then. She lashed out, kicking her wretched husband in the head before doing it once more, kicking off the wreath, sending it across the room.

Before she could do any more damage to the corpse, firm hands gripped her upper arms and pulled her away. She was then tucked under a chin and a hand gently stroked her hair. After a moment she pulled away to look at her son's face. She tried to clean some of the blood off of his chin, to no avail.

"Imperium..." He grinned at her. "Is Mine."

"Not yet."

Anguius spun around to glare at his proavia. The old woman merely blew out a mouthful of smoke and met his gaze without fear as she stroked the head of the huge snake draped around her.[4]

"You must first be raised up."

Anguius looked at her in confusion before understanding dawned on his lovely face.

"Bring forth my shield!"

An attendant brought forth said shield while several officers stepped forward to raise him up. But before Anguius could step foot on the shield, Angua stopped him.

"Wait!"

Anguius turned to her, and she could tell that he was getting angry now. Before he'd could begin to question her, she grasped her palla and tore off a strip of its decorated edge and walked toward him. She offered up the piece of silk.

"May I?" She gestured to his head.

He frowned at her, but nodded his assent.

She stepped behind him and wrapped the strip of cloth around his head, tying a tight knot at the back of it, and draping the remaining two strips over his shoulders.[5]

"There." She moved to be in front of him. Upon facing him, she knelt and bowed her head, feeling a sense of triumph and pride and *victory* deep in her heart. "Ave, Bellator Imperator."

There was the sound of shuffling and a wizened but regal voice spoke; "Ave, Imperator."

It was the Augusta and she had just knelt to Anguius. In doing so, she affirmed his right to rule.

Angua had to suppress her grin. Now no one could contest Anguius' rule.

She watched with gleeful eyes as her son, *her son*, stepped onto the shield and was raised up high by his most trusted officers.[6]

There was a loud cry of "Ave, Imperator!" by one of the honoured officers and then the sound of clanging metal as the multitude of assembled soldiers knelt before their new Imperator and as one, the soldiers inside of the throne room intoned, "Ave, Imperator!", which was echoed by the soldiers in the corridors and then by the soldiers within the whole Palatium and even further until all of Rome was hailing their new ruler.

Notes:

[1] "Emperor! Great Warrior! August! Noble Caesar! Lord of Lords!"

[2] Long ass name, ain't it? I worked hard to make it. It was made following Roman naming conventions.

[3] The ancient Romans were quite passionate about kissing. Ehe. *awkward cough*

[4] Yes, this is Nagini. No, she won't play much of a significant role in the story. I think. Meh, we'll see.

[5] Inspired by a Sculpture of Agrippina crowning her young son Nero. What she ties around his head is a diadem. A diadem is a type of crown, specifically an ornamental headband worn by Eastern monarchs and others as a badge of royalty. The word derives from the Greek διάδημα diádēma, "band" or "fillet", from διαδέω diadéō, "I bind round", or "I fasten". The term originally referred to the embroidered white silk ribbon, ending in a knot and two fringed strips often draped over the shoulders, that surrounded the head of the king to denote his authority.

[6] Inspired by the coronation ceremonies of some ancient Germanic tribes...that the Romans adopted. But that's just a lucky coincidence.


	4. lux in umbras occultus

Notes:

Last chapter for a while. I'll be taking a break from writing. I'm not sure if I'll be able to continue any of my works, so...just a warning. Enjoy.

Invidus- The envious, grudging, jealous.

Shendyt- The shendyt was a kilt-like garment worn in ancient Egypt. It was made of cloth and was worn around the waist, typically extending to above the knees.

Chapter 4: lux in umbras occultus

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Mid August, 2776 AUC, XXXV Anguius,

Bellum Umbras,

Anguius is 68:

Anguius licked his dry, chapped lips and surveyed the arid lands of the Desert of Hidden Shadows. He and his Legions had been here for weeks and he was quickly tiring of this game of cat and mouse between them and the enemy.

Soldiers marched before and behind him, his personal guard separating him from the black and crimson clad throng. It was stifling. The only relief from the merciless sun and dry, sandy landscape a breeze strong enough to lift loose clothes which cooled the sweat on their bodies.

"Ave, Imperator."

A guard made way for one of his Legati, Brutus Cruciator as he joined him on his own mount, looking vaguely concerned.

"Augustus, it will become dark soon, for how much further shall we continue on?"

Anguius sat in silence for a few moments and continued to look around himself. The elite Mortem Comestori were tough, but the constant marching was becoming tiring. They were in unfamiliar territory. The enemy had an advantage. But not a major one.

He looked towards the horizon. There began a rocky plateau which slowly descended into a network of some of the deepest valleys in the empire. They were covered in either bright sunlight or dark shadows, caused by many huge rocky outcrops that together created mazes in the vast valley network. There, the enemy awaited them.

"We march til the plateau, then we make camp. Tomorrow, we end this tedious game."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

That night, Anguius sat by his campfire alone, puffing gently on the small vapora his proavia insisted he bring with him on campaign.

He had already made his battle plans earlier in the evening and had dismissed his Legion commanders, as well as the majority of his servants. His guards were ordered to keep their distance. He had an urge for solitude.

He gently fingered his torques and mentally went through the components of each as well as who each was from. After he had done so, he lingered on his favourite, the one from his grandfather.

He was getting on in age. Being on the battlefield no longer held the thrill it once did. Perhaps, a change of scenery? Maybe, in a few years, he could participate in the Senate apart from mandatory obligations. A battlefield perhaps even deadlier than the one he favoured.

Abruptly, feeling a sudden bout of anxiety, he stood. Abandoning his vapora, in nothing more than a shendyt and a thin, white paludamentum, he trudged away from the outcrop against which he had made camp.

He summoned a torch from the main campfire into his hand and ignoring his guards, descended into the dark area of land that separated him from his legion.

He observed the creatures of the desert as he walked, breathing in the crisp, cold air. It was a beautiful night.

A sudden rattle had him swinging around to find it's source. The light of the torch shined on an outcrop and Anguius' keen eyes caught the hindquarters of a jackal before it disappeared into the darkness. He also saw...ash? Curious, he made his way over to the remnants of a campfire, not even three days old.

Anguius sneered. It probably belonged to the enemy. He went to turn away, but as he did, a splash of colour caught his eyes. After a brief internal debate, he went to investigate.

There, on the limestone outcrop, was a crude drawing of...himself? At least, that's what it looked like. Looking at the picture, he smiled the first genuine smile since he left his mother a week and a half ago.

Some would say that the features were exaggerated, but in his case, it was quite accurate. Deliberately whitened pale skin, large fangs, sinister looking claws, and slitted eyes the colour of blood. Long, sharp bull horns and a nose piercing made him look like some kind of demon, but the multicoloured stripes that were meant to represent his torques gave it an almost comical effect.

The crudely drawn thing made Anguius preen. Many would say that at his age he wouldn't be as deadly on the battlefield and should not fight, but there were those smart enough not to believe such a thing. The predator in him was pleased and amused. He was still very much feared. As he should be.

That night, he went to sleep with a smile on his face; thoughts of retirement buried deep, replaced by dreams of the sensation of battle.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A strong breeze blew sand into his face and Anguius squinted and pursed his lips despite the cloth protecting the lower half of his face. He was still on the plateau, along with his Legati. The soldiers were marching into the deep valley, shields lifted high above their heads to protect against any projectile weapons.

"Mi Dominus!"

He didn't turn to acknowledge his only Legatia as she brought her horse to stand beside his.

"Mi Dominus," she hissed in his ear. " your suspicions were correct. The Proconsul is plotting treason. He called you here to trap you!"

Anguius smirked. Proconsul C. Matius Invidus had always lived up to his name when it came to Anguius. From before the Agoge til now.

"My thanks, Bellatrix, for confirming my suspicions. I now give you the honour of apprehending him."

She gave him a wide eyed look. "Mi Dominus?"

He smiled at her, knowing that she would recognise the look in his eyes. "You are allowed to take a single finger, and a single toe."

She grinned at him from beneath her own veil. "I treasure this honour, mi Dominus."

"Good. Now go, before the battle starts."

Before he even finished the sentence, a flurry of arrows rained down upon a turma and the valley network became organised chaos.

He urged her on. "Happy hunting, mi Bellatrix."

She gave a bow of her head, "Ave, Imperator!", then turned her horse around and rode off, her husband and brother in law following.

"Imperator? "

Anguius turned his attention to his first Legatus, Lucius Flavius.

"Will you be joining the battle?"

Anguius gave a sharp nod, then rode off to do just that.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

At the sound of a commotion, Matius Invidus sprung up from where he was reclining to rush to the entrance of his tent. They should be at a sufficient enough distance from the battle to not worry about an attack, so what could the problem be?

When he lifted the linen tent flap, it was to the sight of the Imperator's Legatia slitting the throat of his own Legatus.

She gave him a wicked grin when she saw him and rode closer. When she was close enough, she bent at the waist to speak to him quietly as if they were coconspirators; "I have a few questions for you that need to be answered immediately, Proconsul."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

*What* was he even *thinking* last night?!

Anguius let out a victorious snarl as he fell another enemy.

*Nothing* could ever compare to *this*! The singing of metal against metal, of flesh against flesh, of flesh being wounded, of the screams of soldiers; *this* was his home! He could never give this up!

He dismounted his horse and after a quick command for him to have his own fun[1], delved back into the fray. The enemies in this area were thinning, and the ones that remained were becoming desperate.

Without thinking, Anguius allowed them to lead him into a small branch that ended in a dead end, away from his guards. It was almost laughable how quickly he disposed of them. Afterwards, he reached up and removed his helmet. As cool as it may be, it felt stifling at the moment. He licked his lips and bared his teeth. He had barely broken a sweat. They were all so *weak*.

But then... Fully aware now that he'd satiated his bloodlust, he sensed the presence behind him and tried to duck, but it was too late. A sharp pain sliced through his left shoulder. He grit his teeth, reached back, and gently tugged the arrow from it's target, then turned to face the offender.

Garbed in beiges and light browns, the enemy looked surprised that he had made the shot. It would cost him. Their magic was powerful if it had managed to break through his armour, but here, in his hands, it didn't stand a chance. He enveloped the thin arrow in his own magic and cocked his arm before returning it to it's sender, watching with satisfaction as it pierced the soldier's skull.

He barely had time to notice the haze that came over him before everything went dark.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Lucius Flavius looked out at the magnificent setting sun on the horizon and listened to the near rhythmic beat of boots and hooves on the desert floor. The battle had been won. There were still some enemies free, but the leader had been captured, and his army defeated. Now if he could only locate the Imperator.

Noxiosia Bellatrix rode up beside him, but stayed silent out of respect. After a few minutes, he turned toward her, but his words were halted at the sight of a bloody finger and a bloody toe worn in her hair.

She noticed his staring and gave him a grin filled with teeth fashioned after the Imperator's own. "You like?" She reached up and touched them demurely; as if they were the most delicate of glass ornaments.

He grimaced and decided it best not to ask.

"Aquilla, have you received word from the Imperator?"

"No. Haven't you?"

She frowned when he shook his head in the negative. And damn if that didn't make Lucius fearful.

"Legati!"

Both of their heads snapped to the caller and saw that it was none other than the leader of the Imperator's guard. When he was at sufficient range, Lucius asked, "Where is the Imperator?"

The man flushed and shook is head in the negative . "I do not know. We were caught up in the heat of battle and..." He held out the Imperator's helmet.

Lucius' voice lowered to a hiss. "Do you mean to tell me that-" Bellatrix finished in a tone ten times more menacing than his. "-You *lost* the Imperator?!"

A miles shouted out and all turned to see him pointing towards the horizon. There, galloping towards them, was the Imperator's horse, looking utterly majestic in the sunset, but, unfortunately, without his rider.

When he finally reached Bellatrix's side, he nuzzled her horse, his progeny, and stood there looking unperturbed. This was bad. The Imperator had gone off on his own a few times in his youth, but his horse had always returned with him, or not at all.

Lucius exhaled sharply through his nose and stared down the guard leader. "The Imperator is now missing. I hope for your sake- all, your sakes," He stared down the entire guard. "That he returns in good health."

They were seasoned warriors, this should not have happened. Lucius felt a headache coming on.

"Legatus!"

Lucius eyed the lone miles as he ran towards him. Barely allowing himself to breath after stopping, he panted out, "Some of our soldiers are missing! The Primus Pilus suspects-"

"Vulturie.[2]" Lucius hissed the word in disgust. Bellatrix let out a hiss of her own. Immediately Lucius was shouting orders to secure as much of the valley network as possible. They had to save the Imperator.

[1] That's right. The Dark Lord's warhorse is badass enough to be able to battle on his own. Why wouldn't he be?

[2] The Vulturie are a...people? Yeah, a people who are basically considered utter scum throughout the entire empire. They capture people and sell them into slavery, and as you can see, focus mainly on battlegrounds, taking wounded, but alive soldiers to sell, and dead soldiers to...also sell. Humans are just as good dead as they are alive in the black market. Especially magical ones. So, yeah, they're scavengers, hence their name. They're sort of nomadic; makes it harder to catch them.


	5. Feritas Supra Civilitas

Notes:

Here you go, enjoy! Don't expect anymore for a while. Harry will be introduced in the next chapter.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Anguius woke with an intense pain in his shoulder, a splitting ache in his head, and feeling in general, sore everywhere. The feeling of hay was prickly on his pampered skin. Who would even dare...? Wherever they'd put him smelt foul and the scents offended his sensitive sense of smell. He rolled to try and get away from the harsh sun and felt his shoulder give a flare of pain. His only outward reaction was a faint shudder.

He tried to open his eyes, but the lids felt as if they were glued shut. He hissed when he felt himself being jostled. What were those fools doing?! He gingerly raised himself to his elbows and was about to call out to his subordinates when he felt a weight on each of his wrists. His heavy lids snapped open at that. He looked down at his wrists and stared in shock at the manacles binding him. He let out an angry hiss. Which fool would *dare* to bind him?!

His eyes traced the inscriptions on the manacle on his right wrist. It inhibited his magic, but wasn't nearly powerful enough to completely restrict it. It also seemed like the inhibitors had deactivated the spell which kept his protections hidden. He stroked a blood red sigil on his inner forearm, feeling the familiar feeling of a certain awe that he only ever felt at the beautiful, rare sight of his markings.

He returned to himself and bared his teeth at the sight of them. He felt as if he'd been stripped naked. Few had ever seen his protections without his assent. He tugged at the chain connecting his manacles and watched with increasing rage and panic as the chain glowed silver. He knew slave bindings when he saw them. Ignoring those for now, he switched his attention to his shoulder and hissed when he saw the gaping wound there.

The situation was becoming more and more apparent; Matius Invidus had made a deal with the Vulturie and they had gotten to him. The thought caused more rage than anything else. Snarling, he lashed out and kicked the wall in front of him. He was still sluggish and his muscles felt tight, but he kicked and kicked while angrily muttering a short healing spell for his shoulder under his breath til it was loud enough for the cart to be stopped.

Anguius waited with bated breath as someone hopped down from the cart and began to walk around. He tensed his muscles in preparation to pounce, but the figure didn't walk all the way to the back. They stopped by the side, blocking the sun, and before Anguius had a chance to speak, a cloud of powder was blown inside the cart. He jolted and shuffled back into a corner, but it was no use, he was coughing. Everything went black once more.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

When next Anguius woke he was nowhere near as coherent as he was last time. He noted his armour had been removed, they wouldn't get far with it though. The spells repoussé and chased into each piece would hinder them. His clothes had been removed also, leaving him bare. He listened to the chatter of his captors on the outside of the cart, before returning to unconsciousness.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

When Anguius next woke, he was being moved. The taste of goat's milk was in his mouth and his head was swimming. He opened his eyes to the world upsidedown. He was being carried by his limbs. As if he were a corpse. He twisted in his captors' grips to vomit into the sand, and, still retching, fell into a fevered sleep.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Anguius sat in the corner of the cart that he'd claimed as his, listening to the sounds of a busy city market outside. He was no longer aware of where he was. They'd managed to break the enchantment tying his armour to him and sell it. At least he could take comfort in the fact that nobody but him would be able to wear it. There were few powerful enough to break the blood magic on them. The poison had left his system completely, but he was still drugged often to be kept in line. His shoulder still twinged with a hint of pain now and then, but was mostly fine. He was never drinking goat's milk again.

The cart door opened with a slam onto the concrete ground. The other slaves started. From the doorway, his new owner sent a nasty grin his way. "Let's find you a new home, shall we?"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Anguius tilted his head slightly to the left as the door of his crate was opened. He'd been blindfolded as his eyes made customers and slaves alike uneasy, so he had to rely on his other senses.

A hand hauled him to his feet by the slave collar around his neck. He recognised the scent as his fifth owner. "Get up you beast!" He bared his teeth behind the muzzle he'd acquired after his third owner. To keep him from using them how they were meant to be used. He could still remember the lessons his mother gave him on how to properly use them.

Anguius didn't flinch as hot breath was blown into his ear. "We are in your forgotten little sister country. Maybe here they'll know how to properly deal with your barbaric ways."

He didn't struggle as he would have when he was hauled into the warm sun, the sound of unfamiliar Greek flowing around him.


	6. αλυσίδες (alysídes)

Notes:

Y'all better pray for the next chapter, 'cause it sure ain't comin' easy. Enjoy!

Special thanks to my Beta, Belgaris. I'd be lost without her.

Disclaimer: I Do Not Own These Characters. They Belong to J.K. Rowling

and Are Her Intellectual Property. I am Not Receiving Any Profit From

This. I Think. Meh.

Pedagogos- Fathers wanting to protect their sons from unwanted advances by suitors provided them with a slave guard, titled "pedagogos," to escort the boy in his travels.

Chapter Warning: Strangulation.

Chapter 6: αλυσίδες (alysídes)

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Late September, AUC 2776

Menelaos Slave Market, Parikia, Paros

Haris is 15:

"Come, your Highness."

Haris sullenly followed Aristophanes, a favoured slave turned Freedman of his father, through the market. Traders shouted out to get buyers' attention. Slaves being marched around in chains, on leashes; few were free. Despite the warm sunlight, the whole place felt dark and seedy. He wanted to be far from this place, but he had no choice but to be there.

Traders, after realising that he was someone important, began to come up to him telling him about their best slaves, pushing against the guards separating him from the throng.

Aristophanes, having enough of the chaos, quickly had shouted out the Prince's supposed preferences and orders the Traders to bring their best slaves front and centre.

Haris tried to force himself to concentrate on the general information written on plaques hanging from the slaves' necks, and the Traders' own accounts of their behaviour, but he couldn't stop his mind from drifting.

It was in the morning. They were having breakfast. The next day, his father was to leave for further inland to check on the crops. It was a regular day, but then his father decided to poke the hornet's nest.

"Helios, what type of slave will you be looking for?"

Hermione made a sound of discontent; Iakobos ignored her.

"The market is a very busy place, Helios. It is best to know exactly what you want so that you may be in and out as quickly as possible."

"He shouldn't have to 'know what he wants'. He shouldn't have to take a slave!"

Krinia hissed at her daughter, "Hermione!"

"Regardless of your sister's stance on the matter, Aiglētēs, you *must* take a slave, and I wish for you to get your money's worth. It would be wisest to know exactly what you want before setting out; more efficient that way."

"Father, he is not even a man yet, and you intend to make him partake in your barbaric ways! No, mother, I will not be silent! This concerns my little brother!"

Hermione stood from her seat and stared Iakobos down.

"I will take a stand here, and now! You forced me to take a slave, now you're forcing Haris, and in the future, you will be forcing Selene!"

She gestured to the 13 year old who was feeding her white, baby monkey some of her breakfast, looking for all purposes, lost in her own world.

"Slavery is a barbaric practice and it needs to end!"

"ENOUGH!" Iakobos stood so fast, his chair fell over.

"Helios will take a slave and that is FINAL!"

There was a resounding silence in the hall afterwards. No one moved. All eyes were on the father and daughter. Their fights had never gone to blows, but they had gotten fairly close to it a few times.

It was Hermione who averted her eyes first. She gave a hissed "This is not over." before storming off.

Haris was snapped out of his flashback by the sound of a scuffle further down the line. He tried to ignore it, but curiously, the sounds continued even after several minutes.

Haris, never one to deny his curiosity, abandoned Aristophanes, who was trying to convince him to buy a meek, young slave girl, and followed the sounds of the fight. What he found was quite a sight indeed.

Fighting off two enforcers, and winning, was a slave. Bound, muzzled, and covered from head to toe in multicoloured markings, the slave reminded him of a rabid dog being dragged away for treatment. He was humiliating the two enforcers; seeming to sense when they were coming for him, and avoiding them easily. But he was swaying on his feet; obviously drugged. It was a wonder how he'd lasted so long.

Then, the slave couldn't move quickly enough, and the enforcers managed to get a hold of him. Haris watched, enraptured as they forced the slave to the ground and drugged him further. It brought to mind tamers bringing down a wild elephant.

As they began to drag the slave away, Haris made a decision.

"Him." He pointed to the slave. "I want him."

Aristophanes, who had joined him sometime during the fight, looked appalled by his choice.

"Prince, surely we could find you a better choice! He is much too volatile."

A Trader stepped forward. "I'm afraid I must agree, your Highness. All of his previous owners have had difficulty with him, and none have come close to breaking him. I have much better slaves than him to offer."

Haris winced at the word 'break' and thinned his lips in displeasure. "No, I want *him*."

Galen, his pedagogos, bent and whispered in his ear: "Prince, I do not think it wise to take thi-" he trailed off at the Prince's fierce glare.

"I don't care what you say. If I am to have a slave, it will be this one or none at all."

After a short moment of silence, Aristophanes turned to the Trader.

"The Prince will take that slave. Have him brought to the palace and you will then receive payment."

The Trader bowed. "He will be there before nightfall, your Highness."

As they walked back to their transportation, Haris couldn't help but feel, no matter how wrong it was, pleased.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It was the morning after he had bought his first slave. Hermione had locked herself away as soon as he'd returned home. His mother had neither been pleased or displeased with his choice in slave, but he had been forbidden to see him until he was properly broken.

Haris wasn't going to let that stop him.

Hidden beneath his father's Invisibility Cloak, he escaped from his room by his balcony, sneaked by the guards, and somehow managed to get inside the room his slave was being kept in. After making sure that they were alone, he removed his cloak and stepped closer to the figure sleeping on the floor.

The slave was absolutely filthy, dirt and grime obscuring his markings and hiding his features. He slept on his back with his muzzle firmly in place, and his wrists were bound in front of him this time.

Haris stepped closer and knelt next to the mat the slave was on. He was absolutely fascinated by this slave. He leaned over him and reached out a hand to touch the rings around the slave's neck. It came back filthy. He wiped it in his himation then went back to examining.

The rings, -torques their names were-, though filthy, were made from the finest materials. One was made of ivory, two more of stone, and there were multiple made of gold.

The curiosity for the 'rings' sated for the moment, Haris moved to the slave's hair. It was thick, wavy, and in a peculiar style: beaded all throughout, with the hair on top of the head braided close to the scalp, the sides shaved off, and the rest of the hair half tied and made up of free, matted, and braided locks, some wound with coloured string, all decorated with feathers, bone shards, claws, teeth, and multiple amulets. The whole arrangement was beautiful, savage, and utterly filthy.

There was a vaguely familiar, 'S' shaped, greenish, sunken scar on the left side of the slave's head, and it was calling to Haris like a moth to a flame. The more he stared at it, the more he wanted to touch. He glanced at the slave. He was fast asleep, but with a furrow in his brow.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out a hand and touched the scar that fascinated him so. *Warm* That's how it felt. Unnaturally warm. Smooth, yet rough around the edges, surrounded by smaller markings as it was. So much condensed into so little. All a part of a much larger, even more complex structure. It felt like home; his mother's cooking, Hermione's books, Selene's hugs. For a moment, all was right in the world. Then, he felt the weight of eyes on him.

Haris slowly moved his eyes to the slave's face, praying that his gut was wrong.

It wasn't.

Slit red eyes glazed over with something other than sleep, gazed up at him with blatant hostility, chilling him to his bones. Haris barely had time to gasp before there was a flash of fangs, and the slave was on him.

Big, filthy hands on either side of his head. The warm chain connecting the slave's manacles biting into the flesh of his neck, lifting him off the ground. Haris thrashed, kicked his legs, clawed at those hands, wanting, *needing*, to breathe. He tried aiming at the slave's bare groin, that face with its inhuman features. No reaction.

He let out a harsh cough, tried to take in a breath. Nothing. His ears were ringing, his vision began to go dark. He was going to die.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The door to the quarters of the Prince's new slave opened to give a maidservant entrance. However, she was quickly running the other way and screaming for the guards at the sight of the Prince being strangled by his new slave.

In no time, a team of guards armed with crossbows swarmed into the room, all aimed at the slave, and consequently, the Prince.

"Drop him!" The captain shouted.

The slave's answer was in the form of him stomping his foot on the ground. A loud cracking sound could be heard just before the ground literally *rolled* towards the guards, causing the lot of them to fall.

They were on their feet again quickly enough, however, there was no longer a threat. The slave had collapsed, loosening his hold on the Prince.

The captain quickly gave orders to get the unconscious Prince to the infirmary before personally seeing to the securing of the slave.


End file.
